


beasts

by AvaMclean



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: wishlist_fic, Crossover, Gen, Resurrection for Dummies, Scheming Peter, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaMclean/pseuds/AvaMclean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is scheming, Buffy keeps saving people(ish things) and Lydia is just trying to hold onto her sanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beasts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pprfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/gifts).



**Title** : beasts  
 **Rating** : FR13  
 **Disclaimer** : BtVS and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. Teen Wolf and all related characters are copyright of MGM Television and MTV. No infringement intended.  
 **Prompt** : pprfaith/BtVS & Teen Wolf/ _“resurrection for beginners”_  
 **Note** : This turned out more meta than I intended, but it was surprisingly fun to write and edit. Perhaps too much artistic license was taken. 

**Summary** : Peter is scheming, Buffy keeps saving people(ish things) and Lydia is just trying to hold onto her sanity.

* * *

They came back wrong. _She_ came back wrong. 

She gets that now—way better than she did back then—most people did as far as Buffy Summers could tell. Resurrections forced something—the spirit, soul, whatever—in where it didn’t belong anymore and pieces scrapped off in the process. Pieces that, as far as she could tell, altered the core and when she really thought about it the _spiritsoulwhatever_ was all a person was and even a little change tended to change _everything_.

She hadn’t known Peter Hale before, but if his resurrection was anything like her own, it brought the worst aspects of his personality to the forefront. Which was the only reason she was putting up with his bullshit schemes, for the moment, and if she was wrong—which tended to happen more often than not—she’d likely have to kill him at some point. 

But not this point. 

Not yet. 

Though she is starting to wonder if he ever _shut up_ before his resurrection.

+

She stinks of sand and desert. 

This tiny human with hunter’s eyes and callused hands. 

Peter doesn’t like the little he knows of Buffy Summers. A name whispered in reverence and fear before the fire that destroyed everything. He also doesn’t like _her_ and yet he regularly tolerates her presence because there’s the distinct chance she’d break something—something painful and something he regularly use— if he did attempt to get rid of her. 

His annoyance with her, and everything she stands for, is a distraction from the hunger in his gut. It’s a gnawing and a constant reminder that his wolf is still reeling from the resurrection and the loss of power. The wolf is a snarling thing, backed into a corner and ready to bite the hand that feeds him and yet he doesn’t. 

He watches the petite woman day in and day out and doesn’t snap her birdlike neck. Instead he accepts her needling to feed the hunger with food and not vengeance and suddenly he’s _goddamned_ Batman. Stiles—with his infinite knowledge of all things teenage and annoying—was to blame, of this he is certain, and he is going to kill him the next time the judgmental bitch’s back is turned and he doesn’t give a shit about possible fallout. 

Peter accepts the sandwich she offers him with a growl and tears into it with his teeth. He explains his plot to kill Scott’s best friend in minute detail to the woman that is supposed to protect the innocent. 

She listens and seems more amused than put off by his scheming. 

Ridiculous plotting aside, he calls bullshit on the whole Slayer thing. 

+

The crackle of static and howl of the wind override all other noise when the only two people Lydia Martin knows to have been resurrected come together in the same vicinity. Peter is the static, the constant white noise eroding her control, and Buffy is the wind, a howl that could drown out any scream she could muster. 

It’s deafening. 

Which means to some extent they make her feel normal—relatively speaking—because they drown out _everything_ else. 

A werewolf who’s more mentally damaged than any sane person should be and a Slayer that fills her dreams with sand and the taste of blood. These are her anchors. Lydia might be better off in Eichen House. Except she’s not and she’s currently allowing herself to be subjected the sight of Peter’s half masticated bite of sandwich as he threatens to eviscerate Stiles. 

Again.

He’s just phoning in the threats at this point and Lydia is nearly certain Buffy is the reason for it. She has that effect on some of the wolves and others, like Derek, just want to render the flesh from her bones. Derek was much better with imagery when it came to threats and she informs Peter of this in her best bored tone.

She’s incredibly good at that tone. She’d perfected it years ago and Peter snarls in response. Cue dramatic werewolf posturing and, really, Peter needs a new retort at this point. If he wasn’t the closet thing she has to a Yoda she’d have convinced the Slayer to kill him weeks ago. 

Lydia accepts the sandwich Buffy presents her with a smile of thanks and she chews with her mouth _closed_. 

Manners, she has them. 

+

She’d come to Beacon Hills because of a mixtape. 

It’d been mailed across an ocean, filled instructions and the promise of far too much money. Buffy had come to investigate and decided to stay awhile. Lots of supernatural afoot, but very little vampire activity, which was all sorts of weird and assassins out the wazoo. So instead of killing the supernatural of Beacon Hills Buffy had found herself their sentry. 

My how times have changed. 

Plus she’d never meet a banshee—mores the pity for Lydia because she’d been an utter lack of help to the hopeful teenager. A teenager that, more often than not, reminded her of Cordelia—especially when she verbally tears down Peter. Her mouth quirks at the comparison of the sanity challenged werewolf to a _werechihuahua_ and luckily that mental image came with visual confirmation as Lydia provided her with a video from Youtube. 

She was pretty sure Peter wouldn’t kill the girl in her sleep like he threatened, but pretty sure wasn’t a certainty which was why she catches Peter by the throat and shoves him back into the couch. The gaze he meets with her with is blue and his canines were sharpened towards deadly. 

He didn’t growl or snarl or make any noise, which spoke volumes from one predator to another. Her eyes didn’t glow, her teeth didn’t sharpen—though she did bare them—but she met his gaze head-on. She felt more than saw Lydia ease her way off the couch as Buffy demands his agreement that Lydia is off limits. She’s not foolish enough to ask the same of Scott. Not yet. 

Her voice is filled with its own growl of warning and the glow was blinked away as Peter smirks up her. He looks pleased, as if he’s accomplished something, and Buffy rolls her eyes before letting him go. 

Lydia reclaims her seat with a huff and another waspish comment. 

Peter offers to make her a sandwich. 

+

There’s a beast in her. 

It’s not cunning or quiet and it’s certainly not fond of him, but it’s intelligent. No form of its own other than her pretty skin and Peter shudders at the thought of his wolf being so thoroughly trapped. Humanity is a cage. It tethers the impulses, but never quiets the hunger. 

He wonders what shape she’d take if given the chance and Scott is so easily manipulated. 

Peter smiles. 

+

The static roars to life inside her head. 

It drowns out the wind. 

Lydia frowns, but doesn’t scream. 

+

The end.


End file.
